


PS. You Matter To Me

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: He paused. What to write for Enjolras? They didn’t have any inside jokes, any shared moment between just the two of them. Grantaire wasn’t even sure that they were really friends. For the Christmas, Grantaire writes out cards for his friends about his favorite shared memory of them from the past year. When it's time to write Enjolras's, Grantire struggles, and thinks back to his relationship with the man.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merelydovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelydovely/gifts).



> Another belated fill for starfieldcanvas! 
> 
> [starfieldcanvas](http://starfieldcanvas.tumblr.com/) gave me this prompt: Write a Christmas card/Christmas letter from the perspective of one of the Amis This could either be a list of ridiculous hijinks they got up to during the year, or it could be someone looking at the year in review and belatedly realizing they’d spent the year falling for a special someone. 
> 
> I kind of...did both? Hopefully you like both parts of the fic!

It was funny how quickly strangers could become family. Grantaire found himself going to a Les Amis meeting in January, at the beginning of the winter semester. And somehow, he kept going back to meeting after meeting, until somehow these people had burrowed their way into Grantaire’s life, and he had a group of awesome friends. Life was funny that way.

This was going to be the first Christmas that Grantaire was going to spend with such a large group of people he cared about. He had started panicking about presents and the like, but luckily, his friends had thought of that too. Given the wide range of financial situations in their social circle, the Amis agreed to only give each other handmade gifts - an arrangement easier for some than it was for others. Grantaire honored this system of gift-giving by thinking of his favorite memory with each friend, then drew a super-hero type comic out of the story. Then on the back of their comic page, he’d write a quick, “happy holidays, you are important to me and I love you”. Except he’d write something more along the lines of “happy holidays, asshole” or “make better choices in the New Year”, but he was sure his friends knew what he was actually trying to say. He did have a carefully cultivated image of being the group cynic, so he couldn’t get too sentimental and compromise that.

He was making good progress. For Bahorel, he illustrated that time they got drunk on the 4th of July and ended up brawling against a homophobic Uncle Sam and a bald eagle mascot. It was definitely one of their more memorable outings. ( _Happy holidays, asshole_ , Grantaire wrote on the back of the page).

Joly got a comic of the time they were taking a road trip, passed a car that was pulled over, where a man frantically waved them down. The man had a flat tire, his pregnant wife in the backseat, going into labor. There was no cell phone reception for miles, so somehow, Joly ended up delivering triplets as Grantaire changed the man’s tire. (Joly really was a superhero in Grantaire’s mind.)

Bossuet’s comic was of the time when Bossuet thought he had lost Musichetta’s cat, so he and Grantaire raced through the city in one of the worst thunderstorms in recent memory (Bossuet had almost gotten struck by some lightning- twice), searching high and low for the damn cat unsuccessfully. It was only when they returned to the apartment that they discovered the cat had locked itself in the closet.

Grantaire had met Musichetta at the Musain, where they were both baristas. So naturally her comic revolved around the adventures of a service job. There was the time a local church had tried to protest them for not having Easter themed cups, that week during the summer when a bunch of middle school boys decided to make the Musain their hangout spot, and had all fallen madly in love with Musichetta until she scared them away, and the time Musichetta and Grantaire had gotten locked in the supply closet, and only got out when Musichetta ripped the wiring out of her bra and managed to loosen the lock.

Jehan’s comic depicted the time that they got high and went ghost hunting in a graveyard. They didn’t find any ghosts, but they did run into a gang of some kind? Grantaire thought they were going to get killed, but Jehan managed to charm one of them by using his wit, and showing off some of his better smoke tricks. Grantaire was pretty sure Jehan and Montparnasse still occasionally hooked up, but that was Jehan’s business.

Feuilly’s was of the time that they thought it would be a good idea to spend all night baking for a bake sale. It was at the end of spring semester, and they had both been exhausted, Grantaire having finished his exams, and Feuilly having had to take extra shifts at work to cover for students taking exams. The point was, at about midnight, they were only about halfway through creating about seven doughs, when they started to run out of ingredients. The rest of the night was a blur of creative improvisation (which resulted in some health-hazards), and also some light-theft, when they stole some eggs from Grantaire’s hated RA. While about 75% of the final baked goods were abominations, the doughs they managed to salvage with the stolen eggs turned out delicious, and they donated all the proceeds to Planned Parenthood as an extra “fuck you” to Grantaire’s RA, who had more than once railed against a woman’s right to choose.

Cosette’s comic also somewhat surprising depicted a theft. Through her work volunteering at a local animal shelter, she had heard of a puppy mill that was about to put down a few runts from its newest litter, thinking they weren’t worth the trouble of taking care of while they tried to sell them. Cosette would have bought them, but even the runts cost far more than she could afford, so she came to Grantaire. He wasn’t sure what about him screamed “knows how to commit a puppy heist”, but he was glad Cosette had asked him for his help. Joly drove the getaway car.

Grantaire wasn’t 100% Marius would like his. It was of the time Marius tried to organize a flash mob so he could propose to Cosette. Marius had been so nervous, so he made them all practice their routine for 6 hours straight. The only problem was the spot he chose happened to be on one of Cosette’s running routes. She had stumbled on them mid-way through the song (that Marius and Courfeyrac had personally choreographed). There had been some confusion as to what they should do, so some of them started the song from the beginning, some of them continued the song as if this had been done on purpose, and some of them stood there and watched as Marius stammered out his proposal speech. It wasn’t Marius’s smoothest moment, but he got the girl, and it had been six months, so maybe he could laugh about it now.

Courfeyrac’s card also involved dancing. Courfeyrac had desperately need a partner for a 24 hour dance marathon that was raising money for charity. It combined two of Courfeyrac’s passions: dancing and raising money for charity. It also brought out a competitive streak, so once he found out that Grantaire was a fairly good dancer, he kept begging Grantaire to be his partner until Grantaire gave in. And dance they did. Grantaire was positive they had done some variation of every dance known to mankind, including but not limited to: waltzing, tangoing, the Macarena, swing-dancing, grinding, and swaying together when they got to hour 23 and were about ready to drop from exhaustion. But at hour 23 ½ they got a second wind, and spent the last 30 minutes flailing their arms about like idiots. They won the contest.

Combeferre’s comic was of the time of the time they had ran into each other at a Neil deGrasse Tyson lecture. Neither had told the other they were going, and yet they still bumped into each other in the auditorium lobby. Afterwards, they got ice-cream, at the same ice-cream parlor Neil deGrasse Tyson himself was getting a post-lecture treat. They got a picture with him and had the chance to ask him a few follow up-questions before he left. Combeferre nearly cried.

With Combeferre’s card done, that just left Enjolras.

He paused. What to write for Enjolras? They didn’t have any inside jokes, any shared moment between just the two of them. Grantaire wasn’t even sure that they were really friends.

Still, it would feel weird to exclude Enjolras. Not just because Enjolras was part of the group, and everyone else in the group was getting a card. But because…Enjolras was part of Grantaire’s life. An important enough part that not acknowledging him when he was acknowledging all his loved ones felt wrong. So he put pen to paper. He couldn’t give Enjolras anything funny, but he could maybe give him some honesty. Somehow he thought Enjolras would like that better. He’s explain how glad he was that they were friends, and maybe after another year of being _friends_ with Enjolras, they’d have some whacky hijinks that Grantaire could use the next Christmas.

_Merry Christmas, asshole_

He frowned. No. They weren’t close enough for that. If he tried that with Enjolras, there was a very good chance Enjolras would think he was serious.

_Dear Enjolras_

That too rang…weird. Grantaire had no right to call Enjolras his dear anything.

_Enjolras,_

Grantaire nodded, satisfied. That was good. Casual.

Too casual?

_Citizen,_

Nope! Grantaire quickly crossed that out. Enjolras would definitely think he was mocking him. Enjolras it was.

_Enjolras,_

_Happy holidays. I’m glad I stumbled on that meeting last January. Well, I didn’t stumble on the meeting. I stumbled on you. In the square in front of the student center, leading a protest about the campus’s unfair LGBTQ policies. You said you were hosting a meeting at the Musain. So I went. I’m sure you don’t need the group drunk to tell you what a good public speaker you are, but you’re magnetic._

Grantaire paused. Yes, that was how he would describe Enjolras. Magnetic. Enjolras had an irresistible pull. And while Grantaire loved all his friends, he knew it was Enjolras, and his fiery passion that got him through the door, and got him to keep returning until he somehow became part of the group.

_You’re magnetic enough to pierce through my skepticism about advocacy. I’m still not convinced it’ll work or that the world can be changed for the better, but you make me want to believe that it can. And I’m not saying that because of how good at delivering speeches you are. A lot of people can write speeches and do a decent job delivering them. But you…I can tell you believe what you’re saying and you want it. You want it so badly that I start to want it._

He remembered that jolt when he heard Enjolras speak for the first time. He loved watching Enjolras when he was giving speeches. But that Enjolras was the Enjolras that belonged to the world. It had been a privilege for Grantaire to get to know the quieter Enjolras, the one he reserved for his friends.

_When I first met you, I couldn’t believe someone was that sincere all the time. But you are. In everything that you do. It’s astonishing._

He remembered when he noticed Enjolras sitting in the back after a meeting, quietly nursing a glass of wine. He had been listening intently to some story that an upset Jehan was relaying to him. Grantaire remembered being surprised that Enjolras devoted to listening to something other than his Cause. But there he was, giving Jehan’s story about not getting the grade he thought he deserved on a poetry exam the same amount of attention that he gave when listening to a lecture about raising the minimum wage.

Once he started noticing how much Enjolras adored his friends, he couldn’t stop. Even though he and Enjolras weren’t that close, Enjolras always greeted him and asked him how his day was at meetings.

_Nothing is too small for you to care about. I don’t know how you do it-_

-evenings when a clearly overworked Enjolras stayed late after meetings to finalize plans for a protest, mornings when he was clearly exhausted but would go to the Musain to help Joly memorize body parts for an anatomy exam, days and nights and days and nights of Enjolras working himself to the bone to help another human being, and still remaining a radiant optimist.

- _but I think the world is a better place for having you in it._

And not just because Enjolras actively tried to make the world a better place. But because one time they were at a rally, and he punched a guy twice his size in the face for throwing a racial slur at Combeferre. A rational person would have walked away. And because one day Grantaire had discovered that sometimes Enjolras ordered hot cocoa but asked the barista to write “coffee” on the cup, because Enjolras didn’t want their friends to find out about his secret sweet tooth. And because when Enjolras laughed, really, sincerely laughed, it was one of the best sounds in the entire world.

_I know this year sometimes I was a thorn in your side. Maybe next year I can be less of a dick, eh?_

There was that fight they had because Grantaire had only written sarcastic protest signs, Enjolras hadn’t thought it was funny. The times when Grantaire pushed a little too far with his interruptions at the meetings, and Enjolras snapped a little too much. Then they would apologize to each other, and with each fight, Grantaire could feel a bridge of common understanding being built, and them getting a little closer each time.

_I want you to succeed in everything you’re attempting because I know how damned hard you work. I want you to see the world become a better place, because you deserve to live in the world you believe in. I want you to be happy because…._

“Because,” Grantaire muttered, trying to fit in the missing piece. “Because…”

Because he loved him. Fuck.

 _Fuck_. How had that happened? How had Grantaire not realized he had fallen in love with Enjolras. It was like those feelings had snuck up on him so slowly that he hadn’t seen them until it was too late. He was in too deep.

He stared at the page he had just written. Now that it was all laid out in front of him like that, he wasn’t sure how he could have missed it before.

He couldn’t give Enjolras that. He couldn’t give him a note that basically laid out his previously unknown feelings on the page. What the hell was Enjolras supposed to do with something like that? He shoved that sheet into his folder of rejected sketches and art drafts. He hastily wrote out a new one.

 

_Enjolras,_

_I’m glad I met you this year. Let’s try to kill each other less next year, okay?_

_Grantaire_

_Ps. I mean it. You matter to me. A lot._

 

It was too much and not enough at all at once. But it was true, and hopefully that would be good enough.

At the Amis’ holiday party, the comics were a hit. Everyone was comparing their comics. Grantaire ended up drawing a quick portrait of Enjolras in the Romantic style, because he didn’t want Enjolras to be the only one to get art. But he was sure Enjolras noticed everyone else got a comic while he didn’t. He had even tried to apologize to Enjolras, but Enjolras assured Grantaire that he loved the painting. Grantaire still couldn’t shake the feeling that that he had to _do_ something.

He cornered Enjolras when he got up to get a refill.

“Hey,” Grantaire said. “Listen, I still feel bad that I did a drawing for everyone else and not for you.”

“I told you, it’s fine!” Enjolras said sincerely. “We haven’t had adventures together like the others have.”

“No, we haven’t. But I’d like to.” Grantaire took a deep breath. “Maybe you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee sometime? It’s not stealing puppies or delivering triplets, but we can work up to that?”

Enjolras smiled at him. “I’d love to.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Titles comes from a song in Watiress, because it's a great song. 
> 
> Come say [hi](http://babesatthebarricade.tumblr.com/).


End file.
